


The neighbor in the white house

by LordSquiddishIshing



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: I Don't Even Know, I think it will be a slow story, My First Fanfic, Neighbors, White House, manipulation?, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27492241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LordSquiddishIshing/pseuds/LordSquiddishIshing
Summary: Elliot is ordinary. His neighbor is not. Can what begins with a relationship in early childhood end in drama? But, a relationship how? A good one? A bad one? Only the Voice will answer. And Elliot. Maybe.





	1. Prologue

A shout resounded. The first cry of what?  
Of a human being. A birth, one more. And what was it? Births take place every minute, every second. I would answer you that nothing. This birth is nothing special. A little boy born at 6 pm in good health, without any apparent health problems, a pregnancy that went very well, a birth that was so banal. The key word here : Banal. But if everything started so well, what would have been the point of writing this? Just, an average story that tries here to tell an original beginning, but which, as time goes by, is just as banal as this birth. Boring. All that. Every . Am I original? Have I hooked the readers? Are you reading this sentence right now and wondering : What the hell? What's the point? This is the effect I am looking for. 

Except that here we were at a birth, weren't we?  
We're getting away from the main subject. The beginning of a story can be joyful, or rather dark, who knows? I wouldn't know myself. After all, I'm only the Voice that makes you read these words, right? I wouldn't know.

We won't talk here about me, The Voice, but rather about him: Elliot. His first name. The one his naive parents gave him.

You know, the normal baby? Does that sound familiar? This will be his story. Just his story. Told by me, read by you, stalkers of his life in which he will have no control. Control. 

I have the control that you will never have.

I am the VOICE

Here, there will be no outside viewpoint. It wouldn't be fun otherwise. What a feeling to know that you too, as Elliot would not know anything. You are Elliot. What would you do in his place? Your choices? Your opinions? What would you do? Are you ready for the life that is waiting for you, Elliot? 

Will you have a peaceful life? 

It will be up to me to dictate the end. Me. And Him.

So be nice to me, okay? You have no right to make mistakes. I'm not nice. I'm not generous.  
I'm not in control myself. I am only a tool. But whose Elliot? Except that you're still only a newborn baby. You're useless. 

So hurry up and grow up, won't you? Mhm. Maybe I won't. We won't know until we keep going, right? My friend. Elliot. Banal. Control.


	2. Little Blue Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mhm. beginning. sweet :)  
> enjoy

Now, let's zoom after Elliot's birth . More precisely : Where do you live? Which country? What conditions? What is his family like? Or rather, what is your Elliot family like?

As said before, his parents are naive. Two parents in their early thirties. They should be experienced, right? In life I mean. That seems normal. Well, it doesn't.  
They're not.

Why did they even have a son? People who want to be parents should be tested. 

I'm hard. 

Bad.

I don't care. I'm right and you're wrong.

But you already know that, don't you? 

Elliot. 

Every day you live with them. It's a miracle you're still alive... You're only a few months old, but you almost died already. Except you don't understand anything. You're a baby. Right. Now, all you can hear is my beautiful voice, which captivates you with its melodious timbre. 

Hmm. Don't look at me like that, and go back and play with whatever you want. Except you can't. You're too weak to do anything. Stuck in that bed, blue by the way, because you can't break the stereotype. Your baby blue eyes are staring at me. I'm the ceiling. You're a retard. A retarded baby. Impotent. I like making fun of you. You have to enjoy things while they're quiet, don't you? You better enjoy it too, Elliot. You notice I talk a lot, don't you? You have to fill the void you leave by being so stupid and ignorant.

Make an effort. Grow up quickly. I want the story to begin.  
I'll even make it easier for you! I'm so nice like that. But not generous. Never generous. Never agai-

So. 

I will install the frame for you. Because you can't. Of course you can't. 

You live here. You don't see it. I don't care. Just remember that it's cold here, and it snows a lot. Like all babies, you have blond hair, blue eyes (such a pretty innocent look), a tiny, stocky body with too many useless bones, a flagrant incapacity, and an dependence on the people around you.  
The people. Let's talk about them. At last. I talk about it. Alone. 

Your progenitors are stupid. Not the stupid bad kind, but the stupid happy kind. The ones you feel like hitting. Idiots in love. Irresponsible. Your parents built a small, modest yellow house five years ago. See? Yellow. 

Maybe you should know their first names. Jannine and Pietro. Those are their names. Vazov. That's your last name. It would be frankly enough to describe them, but I don't want to repeat myself another day, so I'll just tell you everything. 

Jannine is tall. Blonde. Blue eyes. Pietro is tall too. Blonde. Blue eyes. 

Wait. 

Are they brother and sister? They look a lot same. That would explain a lot. No wait wait, if they are stupid AND siblings, will you be as stupid as they are? See even more? I wouldn't let that happen. Following an idiot is boring. I want someone smart, who won't fall for it. But I wouldn't do anything. I'm not generous. If you're stupid, Elliot, that's on you. Not mine. Never mine.  
I would have warned you, Elliot. My only warning. Don't be stupid.  
But you don't understand, do you? You're still a stupid baby with a stupid head and an empty brain.

AND YOU'RE STILL STARING AT ME. THERE'S NOTHING TO STARE AT BECAUSE TO YOU I'M NOTHING BUT A VOICE.  
Just...a...voice. 

SOMETIMES I WISH I WAS MO-  
.  
.  
A cry of pain reasoned in the air. Pain. Fear. It said, "Help me," "I want to be helped." 

A wooden door opened suddenly and slammed against the blue wall. Two large silhouettes appeared. A man with a growing expression of panic, and a woman, with a kitchen knife with what appeared to be tomato juice on it. They ran to a blue baby bed.

The screaming continued. They did not stop. The man took a small package, also blue, the source of the infernal noise. He hugged it against his chest, rocking it gently, while looking around him... The woman let the knife slide into her grip on the floor.  
Her expression, previously worried, was now panicked. She screamed. The man was then confused, and he showed it clearly. The woman points to the blue package with a trembling finger.

And red?

The man looked closer. A panicked sound came out of his mouth. The small package, the baby, the noise, was bleeding. He was bleeding from his little baby ears. The man, now known as his father, became manic, his body trembled, his breathing quickened. He was petrified. Useless.  
How to react? The woman, suddenly, having found some semblance of reason in all this disorder, took the baby from her husband's arms and ran down the stairs, almost breaking her neck in going so fast.

"QUICK TO THE HOSPITAL! Hurry up to the hospital," she said in a high-pitched and hurried voice... 

We heard the sound of objects touching the ground, broken vase, dog barking, and finally, the sound of a car starting up. 

The man then came to his senses, and just as quickly, he also ran down the stairs, just as his wife had done earlier.  
Just as the car was moving forward, he was in it. The car took a deep acceleration, the tires squealed, skidded on the ice, the snow obstructing the driving. The red lights disappeared from view. They had left the door wide open. The dog got out and ran after the car.  
.  
.  
In the house next door, a black-haired woman of modest beauty looked curiously out the window at this rather intriguing sight.  
Her face was relatively young, but if you look closer, you will see the lines of fatigue that were beginning their gentle path...  
She took one last look out the window, went upstairs, opened a door, and looked at her own child.  
He was about one year old. The only thing that could be seen were little fluffy black hairs making their appearances, and big curious brown (Black doesen't exist) eyes.  
Curious but already smart. The woman smiled, picked up her little one, sat down in a rocking chair in a corner of the large room, picked up a book, and in a soft voice, began to read a story. The baby smiled and put his thumb in his mouth. 

"It's the story of a happy man who..."

The earlier dog had returned to the house, and kept it as if his life depends on it. The fallen knife slowly stains the floor, soaking into the wooden floor. 

Night fell. The snow had calmed down. 

And we could finally see the landscape. A medium-sized yellow house and a large white house, side by side. 

The mailboxes both had these names: Vazov and Lawliet. 

This is where it all began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm French, sorry for my language errors.


	3. Hospital, panic and rules.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh panic

A car hurriedly landed in the snowy parking lot of this big city obstructed by snowflakes falling peacefully on the ground, landing delicately before being brutally crushed by hundreds of hurried steps.

Why force ourselves to describe a useless scenery? Finally, useless at this moment of your life.

You don't care about the flakes, you're in pain.

The door opened wide, and your two stupid parents came out holding you as if their lives depended on it. They walked into the hospital, one of the three hospitals in this town, and certainly the best. Even the canteen is good there. And that says something.

Finally, while I was writing about the wonders that this hospital is capable of, Pietro and Jannine arrived at the reception desk, panting, as if they had run a marathon, sweating in spite of the icy weather, as usual this season.

The receptionist watched them catch their breath, with you in your father's arms, and asked in a weary and exhausted voice,

"What's it for?"

Pietro bellowed a few words, and the receptionist, who, thanks to her badge, would henceforth be known as Gladyse, laughed at him inwardly.

"Is he retarded?"

Your father, seeing that he wasn't understood, put you on the reception counter, your mother's eyes moist with tears at the sight of this red disaster.

Gladyse, having finally understood the situation, and the fact that Pietro was not retarded but just panicked, picked up the phone and asked for an emergency medicine.

.

.

Wait.

.

WAIT. WAIT. WAIT.

.

.

.

Stop! Freeze on image, yes there you go, everyone stops moving, time stops.

Isn't there any waiting moment? Isn't it too cliché? "My child is so important, let's get him past this man's internal hemorrhage, and the double fracture of that lady over there" That's what the average stalker must be wondering. If you don't, stop watching Christmas movies. Really.

Stupid.

And so, in response, I'd say I don't care what you think! Go back to the pain! I decide here. You have priority, the gentleman just has to die and tell us his tragic story of why the devil has an internal hemorrhage and the lady just has to bandage herself with a stick and old magazines that will never be used.

NOW that we are all in agreement, Elliot, the stalker, He, and of course me, the Voice, let's go back to the story.

.

.

A young doctor, freshly turned practitioner, came out of an expensive-looking elevator. He was average, brown eyes, brown hair. He finally arrived in front of the panicked couple.

"I'm Dr. Markov, please show me your child."

Markov is obviously someone who goes straight to the point. At the same time a poor baby, always screaming, is in pain. Like the ears of everyone in this hospital.

Anyway,

Pietro showed you, Markov followed his trajectory and saw you on the reception counter. He watched you for a few moments and took you in his arms.

"Follow me, quickly."

And he left. The couple looked at each other stupidly, the people waiting behind them began to complain.

"I have a double fracture! Why are they passing in front of me?"

"I feel really bad, and I have a huge purple stain, why am I not being taken care of yet?!"

Gladys was visibly uncomfortable, and now, fully awake.

Other people were getting up and concentrating on the scene. They were thinking, and after reflection, they too were angry. A huge hubbub broke out, everyone rushed to the counter, knocking over the waiting chairs on the floor. Poor Gladyse.

It took all this mess for these two idiots to wake up and rush following the signs on the hospital walls to the swing rooms.

Markov did not wait for them.

And these idiots got lost, they took the wrong intersection... How to get lost following directions? This humble voice won't be able to tell you.

Markov reached the hall. He opened the door, looked behind him for the parents, and, not seeing them, shrugged his shoulders, entered and closed the door.

Not very professional, is it?

Everything that follows will be overlooked, because medical confidentiality comes first, doesn't it? And that we have to move on, because this hospital is taking more time than it is really worth. I am frustrated.

.

.

.

.

.

For obvious reasons, stalkers will never know how in the world the parents found their child, when and how, because it wouldn't be fair. We've established that this story was only from Elliot's point of view, right?

.

"Then why did you tell the story of the parents' loss in the hospital and their incompetence?"

"You're inconsistent."

"I'm quitting."

Tsk, stalkers, it doesn't count, because of the five-rule. Don't you know about it? I can break the rules set by him 5 times every 3 scenes. Which brings us to the past scene. And the others. Ahaha. (I didn't invent this rule on the spot at all, no no no.)

.

Anyway.

.

.

.

Pain, sorrow, seeking comfort. This is what the weak felt. Of course he didn't know it, but we have to involve him. You can't break too many rules.

.

Comfort. Warmth.

That's what he was looking for! He wanted it! And quickly! He was insatiable for warmth and reassurance.

.

.

It happened much later, after those cold hands near his head, turning and watching him.

He found her again.

The warmth.

Then he was carried, swaddled, transported by the heat, then the cold.

He felt himself moving forward, while being carried. He did not understand. It didn't matter.

A long moment passed.

And then nothing was more important than the comforting feeling, the familiar smells. That strangely familiar sound.

"Woof" "Woof" "Woof" "Woof" "Woof"

Strangely cheerful. He laughs. His laughter resonates.

"Ahahahahahaaaaaaa"

Innocence.

Accompanied by the laughter of the heat, echo of its immense form.

"Ahahahahahaahahahahaaaaaaa"

Mhmm. Relief.

Everything's all right, isn't it? Those eyes that only see blurry closed. Black surrounded him, strange sounds following him...

.

.

.

Brown eyes watched the scene analytically through a large window. A mop of black hair. A small smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything to work on ?


	4. Poor Elliot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> w:

He feels it. It's today. This will be his moment of glory! He can't wait to hear his strange sounds that make him feel blurred and happy. He's hungry for it.

.

Remember this: hungry for attention. Just a hint.

.

.

It's difficult. He didn't think it would be. They do it all the time! Calling him!

"Elliot" "Elliot" "Elliot!"

All the time. He can do it too!

He tries.

"E-"

Ah! He almost makes it!

He knows what he has to do! Giants say that all the time!

It's trying. He's trying again. Again and again. And again and again.

He can't do it, he's so tired. He's fed up! He wants to ARRIVE! Why can't he?!

We have to calm down. He's going to make it. Just do it!

"Ell-"

Yes! Almost!

"Ellio-"

More than an effort go go go!

"Elliot!"

At last! He did it!

Except. No one's here to congratulate him. Disappointment. Why isn't anyone raising it? Why aren't the giants here?! He gave everything he had, and nothing was rewarded! Where's all the attention?! Nowhere!

He feels warm. It's boiling. He's simmering. It feels heavy.

It falls asleep.

.

.

You've got it, stalkers. Our dear Elliot is disappointed, poor him. His first word is his first name, rather egocentric, isn't it? The two idiots don't know it, but their absence will mark a turning point in this story.

But what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm French, sorry for my language errors.


	5. Interlude One

Over time, the idiots noticed something. Elliot wasn't talking. He never did. He just pointed at things with his finger, making some kind of movement. He has this look in his eyes. The look in the eyes of you bastards. Except that. Pietro and Jannine didn't do anything! They just love their child, but after all, he's only three years old, isn't he? It's not possible for a child to just consciously decide not to talk, right?

Then they decide that they think too much. Their child is just special. One of their children who seems retarded, but is actually quite normal.

.

.

But what is normal? What is the limit? What can you do to be abnormal? How can you stay within the normality?

Meh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always French


	6. First Fight/Contact

It was cold. The wind stung her cheeks, making them red with the blood circulating in her tiny veins. He looked like an eskimo. Very small is very big, with layers of ridiculous but necessary clothing. His blond hair is hidden under a thick ninja turtle cap! Knights in shades of tortoiseshell. His icy breath visible in the air. His little gloved hand buried in the snow despite the freezing cold and the flakes raining down on his jacket, kneeling on a ground too hard for his young body. Scrutulous and frenetic. He ignores all this because he is too concentrated in his present task :

Finding Mika. His toy.

Tears come to his eyes, coming from a frustrated being, silently expressing his grief. His body no longer trembles only with cold, but also with sadness. And that's why he doesn't notice the other figure approaching. A little taller than him, dressed in orange, pink and green, with a cap similar to his own. A strange choice of colours.

A pale hand approaches his, takes it and squeezes it. What a strange scene, two little children in a freezing cold, alone.

One on his knees, the other crouching in front of him.

Elliot looks up, surprised, and sees big dark brown eyes staring at him. He can't really describe the emotion he sees in them. He is still too stupid to describe it properly.

Anyway,

the other boy looks at him, still shaking his hand, and says in a young voice, "Stop".

Elliot doesn't want to, so he tries to free himself from the hold that is holding him back. The other one won't let go! He just tightens it!

He gets angry, he wants to find Micka and go home, not stay here with the colour monster!

And he makes it clear. Elliot then starts trying to get up from his kneeling position, but nothing is done!

Why is that? Why did he do it? Why did he do it?

He then starts kicking the intruder. Elliot has gone wild, we've lost him. The other boy, unprepared to be attacked, just stands by and watches his own defeat.

The blows are raining, Elliot won't stop! He knows he should stop, because red is starting to come out of the other one's nose.

But he doesn't stop, too engaged in his own anger, accumulating frustration and cold. Tears of pain begin to flow from the boy's poorly dressed cheeks. Elliot doesn't notice him. He doesn't pay attention. He keeps kicking again and again, reinforced by the thick boots he wears, even when his "enemy" is down, defeated.

He is relentless.

A door opens, slams open and hurried footsteps stop in front of this monstrous scene. A woman with black hair freezes. And then suddenly, anger invades her. She runs towards the little monster, takes him by force, holding him as he struggles without a word, and in immense anger, his face red despite the weather, slaps him.

A beating. Two beats.

No more movement.

She drops the little one on the ground, who doesn't move any more, looking at the ground.

She takes her own child, fainting almost under all the blood, and bruises forming all over her face, which had previously been spotless.

She flees into her big house without looking back, apparently not caring about the little child left alone and vulnerable to the cold.

As she closes her door, the last thing she hears is

"Elliot! What are you still doing out there! Get inside now!"

.

.

He's coming in. He slowly comes to his senses, and strangely enough, doesn't feel guilty about his actions. After all he tried to escape, the other one just held him back! He had to do that! He decided that the unknown would be his enemy!

.

.

Buried under the thick layer of snow, a cloth doll comes to life. Its smile, once soft, becomes so wide that its seams begin to crack. Monstrous. And suddenly she spoke.

"It's the Voice, again and again I hope you're happy to see me there"

...

What's up? Little children are not so cruel? Such a sweet and impulsive age.

"Why are you talking nonsense when you've just told the whole episode."

IDIOT. Did I really write this? Are you really reading me? I am only the Voice after all. But the Voice of what?

.

Shhh.

But-

Shhh.

.

.

The doll stops. What a strange moment! A talking doll! The snow continues to fall. Untiringly.


	7. We are best friends now.

Elliot plays in front of his window, quietly. Serenely. But there's this disturbing feeling on the back of his neck, and shivers come over him. It's not cold in his room though.

He doesn't really know why, but he stops and turns around and goes to his window...

he stops.

He stops. The coloured monster is staring at him. From his window. Smiling, his head tilted. Elliot freezes, drops his figure, and stares at him too. A staring contest has just begun. Elliot frowns and looks away. The monster's smile lengthens. Elliot feels offended and he doesn't even know why.

The other one beckons him to come!

Elliot can't believe it. He'll never go to the monster's house! He's never going to the monster!

He then sticks out his tongue at his neighbour in a childish way and starts turning around and enjoying his childish act .

His neighbour then shows something. Mika! He holds it in his hand, smiling and waving it around like some kind of trophy! (Except that here it would be more like a candy to the gl ace truck)

The black-haired boy then takes a chisel and starts to cut one of the doll's arms, smiling sadly... His face streaked with blue and yellow wounds is synonymous with pure sadistic pleasure. He laughs his head off as he watches Elliot decompose and looks on in horror at this scene incomprehensible to his young brain, which has just decided to put itself on standby to protect itself.

He stops after the first cut.

"Come on."

He then puts his finger in front of his mouth, mimicking the universal sign of "be discreet". It's true. Night is falling, little children don't have to leave at this time.

But Elliot doesn't wait a single second. With the help of his little legs, he gets out of bed and walks towards his modest wooden door, while stepping over the various greasy chalk drawings scattered on the floor, or the anarchically arranged playmobil to what vaguely resembles a house made of children's books, posters of ninja turtles! riding ecclesiastical, his favourite programme.

With great difficulty, he manages to open this door too big for him. He then walks down the narrow hallway, passing in front of the bathroom while on tiptoe, silent as a mouse flying into your pantry.

When he reaches the stairs, his young mind thinks. He hears a noise coming from the living room, followed by great laughter.

"Parents downstairs."

That's his conclusion.

Yes. Well done, Elliot.

He then begins to go down the stairs, being even more careful than before. Mischievous little rascal. Careful like a thief during a robbery, silent like an owl making its flight. He comes down, surrounded by pictures of his parents with him as a baby, or of his parents' wedding, or pictures with their distant family. The Vazovs love their family. "It is sacred" they often say.

At the bottom of the stairs, Elliot has two options. Take the risk of taking his jacket which is on a chair behind the sofa where both his parents are watching what seems to be a very funny comedy judging by the laughter that can be heard throughout the house and their dog, Nelson, a Malinois who is lying next to the TV cabinet and who is watching every move in the room...

Or, going out in what is probably more than icy cold, in thin pyjamas. Chances of getting sick are high. But be sure to remain unknown.

The question doesn't even arise. Elliot approaches the front door, behind a rather thick wall, the kind of wall that doesn't let any noise through. See?

Elliot is stupid. But not totally! He still thinks about taking shoes, which are in fact only glorified slippers (but who cares), puts them on, and for some reason unknown to everyone, takes his mittens.

He then looks at the door, turns the key in the lock and opens the door.

The cold attacks him instantly. A big cold wave. Elliot shivers instantly. He looks outside, it starts to get dark... He hesitates.

Then he thinks of that monster with big smiling eyes cutting Mika, and rage hits him again, sending an adrenaline rush through his body, eliminating the feeling of cold.

He then takes a deep breath, goes outside, closes the door and starts running towards the other house.

With his breath visible in the air, the menbres numb, he runs, again and again, until he has covered the distance between his door and the monster's door. He is in front of the door.

His house is huge, Elliot thinks. So big.

Suddenly he remembers this woman. The scary woman who hit him a few days ago. Now Elliot is scared. What if she does it again? Sometimes he thinks of those hands on her body like big cruel claws, tearing it to pieces ...

But he doesn't have time to think any more because the door opens and Elliot finds himself being dragged into the house with a sharp blow. The difference in temperature hurts him.

He doesn't feel sorry for himself and starts to pull away from the tight grip on the collar of his pyjamas, so he steps back and watches the despicable being smiling in front of him.

The enemy.

He begins to advance towards the monster, prepares to strike because anger invades him, he remembers how the other one dared to hurt my first friend, Mika.

The other boy steps back, still smiling, and speaks in a condescending voice .

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, I still have your stupid toy you know? Bad things could happen to it if you take one more step."

Our protagonist stops suddenly, like a doll who has cut the strings, helpless.

"There, that's right, stop and don't move! Aha!"

Elliot sees the other boy literally gloating in front of him, with an insolent I'm-better-than-you posture, bent at the waist and his hands behind his back spinning and dancing, kicking his feet up in the air, clearly happy with his little power.

Her patience is hanging by a thread. He frowns and crosses his arms, turning his gaze away from the ground, his hair shading his eyes, while adopting a defensive posture. His mouth turns down and his cheeks swell, he pouting.

"Now you're going to follow me gently, now you're going to follow me gently, no sudden movements."

And then he starts to climb up a large staircase made of solid oak wood, shiny as the day it was made. He turns around and seems to be thinking about something, and suddenly says in a pensive voice :

"By the way, call me L- no, you don't deserve to know my first name, so just call me L."

Elliot doesn't understand all the words that come out of the mouth of the infamous monster, but he does understand one thing, the monster doesn't want him to know his first name. He wants him to call her "L". Ah! What a stupid nickname. For once, Elliot is happy not to talk.

They've arrived upstairs now, the decoration is very clear, sprinkled with bright colours, like green, yellow and red.

L then guides him to a rainbow door, opens it and rushes in.

"So? Are you coming?"

Elliot enters.

The other boy's room is just like his house and his wardrobe, painted in so many colours that it hurts his eyes. It's horrible! How is it that nobody changes anything?! Even a blind man would be blinded by this monstrosity!

But. Elliot then notices that just like him, L is a fan of ninja turtles. He thinks that he can't be that bad. All those who like ninja turtles are nice, aren't they?

Then he sees Mika in the other's hands, and thinks he is probably wrong.

"Well then, we don't have much time, I've locked my nanny in a cupboard."

What-

"We had to get you here without anyone noticing, didn't we?"

Quiet, please.

"Why don't you speak?"

Silence. Silence.

"Answer me! Why?!"

Silence.

L is no longer smiling. He no longer gloats. He becomes astonished, staring at Elliot. His face covered in bruises give him a frightening atmosphere.

"If you don't want to talk, we'll do it another way."

Elliot is standing right there with his arms wobbly. He's never spoken to anyone his age, or even spoken at all. He thinks maybe he could try, just to get Mika back. And if that doesn't work, he'll just have to take Mika back by force.

He opens his mouth and tries to talk.

"H-"

What? He can't do it! Why can't he do it? His face becomes anxious, tinged with panic and he tries again.

"H-" "H-"

He closes his mouth and doesn't try again. His posture becomes slumped, downcast.

He looks at this scene with a critical eye and seems to be thinking about something. He's been doing this a lot since Elliot met him. He seems to have thought of something that amuses him because he smiles.

Why does Elliot have a strange ball in his belly, growing bigger and bigger, now taking up too much space than he can handle?

He feels bad.

The other frowns, as if he were sad, opens his mouth, takes a breath, and speaks in a sorrowful voice,

"Do you know that people who don't talk don't have friends?"

What-? Elliot feels confused. He has friends! Don't the toys in his room and Mika count? Mummy tells him he'll have lots of great friends! He looks at his doll in a panic, as if she's suddenly going to talk and give him the answers he wants.

Elliot is gullible.

"Toys don't count. I'm talking about real people, you know when we're going to school?"

School? His parents talked about it. They said he won't be going for a long time, so why is the other one talking about it?

"People who don't talk are left out, they are boring! They have no friends! And if they do, it would only be out of pity!"

Mercy? Elliot doesn't understand that word, and he tilts his head like Nelson often does when his parents talk to him.

L seems to understand that, and then rephrases his words...

"You'll only have friends because their mommy and daddy ask their !"

He looks proud of his sentence.

The dumb guy feels gawked. He then starts to get scared, because his mother said that friends are the most important thing in life after family! If he doesn't have any friends he'll be all alone! What is he going to do then?!

Elliot seems to have completely forgotten about Mika, or why he was even here.

L then starts talking in a strange voice, as if he has... won something?

"But you know..."

Elliot comes out of his semi-comatose state and looks at the boy in front of him.

"I can be your friend, but only on a few conditions."

He doesn't get it! Why does the other one say that! They don't even know each other and Elliot hates him! And conditions too?!

Except that Elliot is still too young to be able to fully think about this proposal, and his young mind only remembers one thing, that he won't be alone.

"So?"

Elliot acquiesces.

"Ooooh! Now we're best friends."

L's voice is annoying. As if he's done something he's so proud of.

"And now the conditions"

Her smile is disturbing. Maybe it was a bad idea? But it's too late now.

"You will never betray me."

"You won't have any other friends but me"

"You'll never leave me"

He laughs.

Elliot nods. He thinks maybe it won't be so bad. He comforts himself as best he can.

"Well, now you don't need that stupid doll anymore."

So L takes Mika, his chisel, and before Elliot has time to do anything, he chops it off! He shamelessly tears it apart while having that same disturbing smile!

Elliot is devastated. His eyes sting and tears run down the length of his eyelashes, down the curve of his cheeks, to finish their journey under his chin, before being brutally wiped away by him.

L stops in his destruction, approaches Elliot with the flap of cloth that was once his doll and says in a dragging, mischievous voice,

"Mika was your friend, wasn't he?"

Elliot nods. Mika was his first friend.

"Rule two says you can't have any friends other than me. He had to disappear."

He goes on to say.

"Part. My parents will be home soon."

So Elliot starts to leave, and he's not afraid to leave the funeral scene.

He goes through the open door, down the stairs, the secrecy used to sneak out of his house is gone. His breath is quick, not because he is tired, but because he is short of air. Having an existential crisis and running home do not go together.

He opens the massive door with difficulty, and finds himself a second time plunged into the cold. Night has now fallen. He finds it difficult to find his way home.

Elliot stumbles on his steps, falls, gets up, and repeats the scene until he reaches the door of his house.

He opens his door panting, his tears dried by the cold, leaving only swollen and red eyes.

He catches his breath, camouflaged by the thick wall. All he hears is the static noise of a television set and the sound of snoring.

He then pitifully climbs the stairs, to hell with discretion, not caring about anything. He feels empty.

The boy goes into his room, lights his night-light, and lies down in his bed, not having taken off his shoes or his mittens, having left a trail of melted snow in his path.

He is about to close his curtains, and sees in dim light L.

L looks at him, smiles, waves his hand as a sign of goodbye, and disappears under his window.

Elliot decides not to worry about it any more and falls into a restless sleep, returning from demons with disturbing laughter in a hell of snow, and silent dolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhg srry


	8. Tea time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yay

A cup of tea rests silently on the small plate prepared for this purpose. There were no wires other than the ambient noise of a fireplace, the fire crackled pleasantly in the ears of those present in the room. Nobody opened their mouths, not a word left their lips. Had someone sewed their lips together? If he had dared to venture me in this description, which I am doing at the moment for that matter, had that person taken their faces writhing in fear, the tenants in place, their bodies struggling in vain, and thanks to this small object, no longer than a finger, pricking itself like a hedgehog protecting itself from predators, had he, I repeat, sewn their lips together? Not that he can push this reasoning as far as that, only one thing holds him back: fear. He does not distinguish between fear and fear.

To be sure, the pleasant voice that I am will now give you the experience of all readers, whether they like it or not (HE doesn't care).

"It all started with a perfectly normal morning, Elliot woke up to the gentle trembling of her mother's soft hands, opened her eyes and looked up at her ceiling, turning and smiling, still very sleepy. ..."

__"Ohh the main character ate rusk for breakfast ..."_ _

I don't have the cruelty to make my dear stalkers go through this, those who, I want to make it clear, are very few, which breaks my heart (no).

Anyway, about that damn INNECESSARY flashback, I'm going to go straight to the tempo and bring it to the interesting moment in this little child's life. Elliot went behind his mother and saw L.  
L. This cursed letter, he doesn't even know the name of the other one! But he sent himself confusion. What is he doing here? He still hasn't recovered from the last few days. He finally found himself dragged by the arm by a visibly amused L, his mouth open like a fish out of water, and let himself be gently dragged along, hearing his mother tell him "have a good time with his new friend". He's out of his mind.

Click click.

click.

And now this demon, this spinning demon, looks at him, flanked by his little clone with a mischievous smile.

  
The snow hits a glass pane, gently, carefree to the world. As if a dimension had been created now. As if time had stopped. Who would have a fuzzy clock in their house? It's hard to see the time, he thought. The colouring of the cuts, until now very repetitive, at the limit of comfort, stops.  
He looks up. 

"What's your name? "

His eyes widen, widen, his mouth opens, like a fish out of water, as if he were choking after being caught by the naughty cat in his aquarium.  
  
He swallows. What should you do? It doesn't talk! It doesn't know! It never does! Now the sweat is dripping down in little drops, his hands are shaking and he seems to be shrinking inside himself. It doesn't know what to do. Then he looks.

L seems to appreciate his whole situation, judging by his static smile. He hasn't stopped since Elliot has been here. Elliot looks at him in panic. He seems to be the provider to do something, to help him, anything! He has forgotten his anger or confusion about the other little boy. He is only looking for help, forgetting the evil he has examined and the fact that he is, in fact, in enemy territory.

"So?"

"So?"

  
The voice becomes more impatient, demanding.

And he does. He stands up, calmly, avoiding all eyes. The chair is too big for him, his legs hang from the edge, but it's not so bad. Like a vertical slope that you are afraid of, the obstacle on the way to comfort. The chair doesn't scratch the ground, only makes a muffled noise. The carpet is red. Like singing. Like mummy's lipstick.  
He does not feel the confusion of the two people in front of him. And confusion is a big word for his "best friend". He now loses his smile. He no longer looks happy. His face is closed. He smiles. He did it! In the end, this obstacle was nothing for him. The boy reached the door, put on his coat and shoes and left. Yes, he opened the door! He is free to be outside, despite the cold that covers his neighbour's garden.  <Isn't there anyone in this big mansion? Uncle Jaws is here!

"What's going on here?" L, on the other hand, was hostile. 

"Welcome, brother." 

.

The atmosphere is no longer simply stifling, but cold. He always feels like vomiting, and he wants to do it... His stomach is already in a mess since he arrived here, it's not going to get any better now. He feels it coming back up, this unknown feeling, the one that hurts him in a strange way, that something has chosen is coming up inside him, just waiting to come out. He can't remember the last time he felt this way. Or has he never felt it at all? His dog is studying though, and the word sounded funny when his mother found a yellow mush on the floor. Elliot never blessed himself, except when the lady hit him. Elliot's own parents make sure nothing happens to him, and he doesn't really know why. Maybe it's because he doesn't talk? Is he more fragile than others? But then L would be what? A vase? He doesn't I think L would be a vase. No, vases are not as ... like L. Nothing looks like him according to Elliot's very limited entourage. His parents, his dog and his neighbours. He's rethinking. L would be what? If I'm fragile ... Is there anything more fragile than fragile? Broken? Breakable? Damaged? He doesn't really know what I mean by damaged, except when his mother dropped something and it cracked afterwards. Elliot gathers together because it certainly doesn't. L is not fragile. He looks like one. The appearance of being fragile. He's surprised at himself, why does he think that? He is! He beat L! L is weak, that's what he is. Not fragile, but weak. Vessels are not weak, but fragile. Vases hurt when you hit them. Like when Elliot hit L. Elliot is fragile but hurts, like a vase. Corn. L also hurt Mika. But L is NOT FRAGILE. WEAK. He has a headache.

.

Ups, are you confused? That was the point. I don't want you to think about it and find out why even Elliot compares L, THE L (please uppercase) to a vase. You don't want to know, dear stalkers in the shadows.

.

.

 **kind of idiot** .

**Is it delayed?**

_What-_

Back to the present, back in this large room, its hot chocolate, and its biscuits. No, where are his biscuits? He hears a strange noise above him. He looks up and sees those same pale hands, like a spider. He hates spiders. And sees a face, a face strangely like the demon, and he remembers. "Welcome my brother". Bruily.

Anyway, he wants to go home. It is clearly daylight, omitting the fact that it is snowing, as always. The man smiles. A strange smile, and raises his eyebrows. Then turns his eyes towards the lady with black hair. Apparently Elliot is no longer interesting enough for him. The biscuit crumbs itch him. Is the man, identified as the lady's brother, also a demon? That's Elliot's question. If a woman is evil and L is evil, then is this man also evil? Or is he like L? He's related to her, isn't he? So many unanswered questions. 

Well? What is this cold reception? Would I be an unwanted guest in my own childhood home? I feel sad about it, Lo."

Oh, come on! It's not like we're strangers, right? Why such cold treatment? And you, man, why such a murderous look? Mhmm? And who is this little guy, huh? He looks absolutely livid! Ahaha!"

The man, with his jaws, smiles mockingly. As if L didn't matter, as if he were small. Well, he's small, he's smaller than Elliot anyway. For the first time he wonders what L's real name is. He still doesn't want to tell her. Calling him L is strange. And it's not fair! L heard his real name from his mother. L is stupid anyway. The letter as a nickname. So he decides to NEVER pronounce the letter L. Not that he ever will, he thinks gloomily. It's true. He doesn't speak. Will never have friends. Don't think about it, don't think about it. It's a question for another day, another year, or maybe, other years. Who knows? In any case, he has decided to go home now. More than ever. Why does he have to watch and endure this little scene? Isn't it normally private? How does he cope? Without ever seeing all those people again. It's an insurmountable task. If only, only, someone could get him out of there, back home. He really thinks about it. But he soon learned that miracles don't always happen. The image of Mika is always fresh in his mind, he won't soon forget it.

Nothing has changed.

Mum believes in God. Must he also believe in God and will he save him? Elliot is ready to believe in God in this case. 

" _God? Please get me out of here._ " 

  
" _Hello?_ "

  
Nothing's happening. 

  
He's disappointed. Mum lied. He is now resigned. He then comes out of these reflections and surprises a verbal match. Or rather an argument? There is shouting everywhere. Only the demon remains impassive. L looks ready to throw himself at Jaws, and he's already halfway there, and the other one seems to be having fun! 

  
Having fun?! 

  
How?

  
All this is too much for him, he's not looking for violence! It's too much. Tears come to his eyes, ready to get out of their blue sea prisons, to free himself, to take the front door, as you want when suddenly!  
When suddenly, yes. 

  
The doorbell rings. Time stands still, L, held by Jaws's hand, executing a wrestling grip on his arm, but being so light it doesn't seem to have any effect, is busy biting the biceps of a grimacing Jaws. L's hair is even more tousled than usual. Like a bird's nest. His clothes, still as colourful as ever, seem to be wrinkled and his sleeves are rolled up because of his ruckus.

  
God has spoken. Or acts. Is it even God? ~~_**NOT THAT IT IS NOT GOD, SHORTLY, IT IS HIM**_~~  
The demon gets up and leaves. 

A minute passes. 

  
She comes back. Nothing's changed. She stands in front of Elliot, looks at him, and suddenly takes his hand. 

  
His hand is warm, Elliot thinks. 

Suddenly he stands in front of his mother.

YES! God heard him.

Elliot believes in God now. He will believe forever! His mother seems to be surrounded by an allo of light, smiling warmly, as always.

Everything else passes like a blur. She asks him if he had fun. He nods his head, walks through the door and, before he knows it, is in bed, looking up at the ceiling, getting up and looking out the window. L's window is just across the street.

The curtains are drawn for the first time.

  
He goes back to bed.

  
And falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the underlined passages, no matter what I did they didn't leave.  
> I have also added content to this chapter.  
> If you have an opinion please do not hesitate

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, first chapter, I hope you enjoy it, things to work on?


End file.
